


Somebody Save My Wayward Son

by fuwuneral



Category: Smallville, Supernatural
Genre: Cas doesn't show up until later, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Look this is really stupid I'll tell you that right off the bat, M/M, but I'm writing it anyway, but do you ever just get a weird idea that won't leave you alone, nobody asked for this crossover, this is for me and my 3 friends who will read it but hey if this appeals to you im happy to provide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29460477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuwuneral/pseuds/fuwuneral
Summary: A Smallville/Supernatural crossover that grew in the petri dish of my brain, inspired by a headcanon that started as a joke.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Clark Kent/Lex Luthor, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Lana Lang/Sam Winchester, One sided Dean Winchester/Clark Kent
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> On the off chance someone I don't know is reading this, welcome to my SuperVille crossover inspired by Jensen Ackles and Adrianne Palicki appearing in both shows. Also the timelines of both shows are chopped up and thrown in the blender in this. Sometimes you hyperfixate on two shows at once and crossovers just happen.

It was a little worrying how fast Sam had gotten used to spending days on end in the passenger seat of the Impala. It had been less than a year since Dean had come knocking on his door in the middle of the night, and yet the life he’d built--Jess, his old apartment, his classes, his friends--felt like it had all been a dream. He sighed as he opened up the paper he’d picked up at the last gas station, scanning for anything that looked like it might be their kind of problem. 

A name caught his attention.  _ Smallville, Kansas.  _ It sounded familiar, but it took him a moment before he realized why--Jess. That was her hometown. She’d only mentioned it once, when they’d first met. He’d mentioned Lawrence in passing, and she’d laughed, said she was from Smallville, and made some comment about the bores of Kansas small town life before changing the subject. 

He skimmed the story below the town’s name. “Hey, Dean.”

“Hmm?” 

“Let me know how this sounds to you. Three young boys missing in the last week from the local high school, all reported behaving strangely before they disappeared.” He looked at Dean, who nodded and shrugged. 

“Yeah, could be our kind of thing. Where?”

“Smallville, Kansas.”

Dean’s knuckles went white on the steering wheel, and the car swerved sharply for a moment. He cleared his throat in the world’s least subtle display of discomfort. “Uh, you know,” he said, “It’s probably nothing. Actually, maybe we should avoid Kansas altogether, it’s never been a good place for us to be.”

Sam stared at his brother, baffled. “What the hell was that?”

“What the hell was what?” Dean kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead. 

“That reaction. What’s in Smallville that you want to avoid?” 

“Nothing. I’m just bored of driving through corn fields,” said Dean, defensive and so obviously lying that Sam wondered how he managed to do it so often.

“Bullshit.”

“Look, just drop it, okay?” 

Sam sighed, looking at the paper again. A strange but familiar feeling poked at the back of his mind--the feeling that there was something important about this case. Professional intuition or something else, he wasn’t sure, but ignoring his instincts hadn’t served him well lately. There was something in Smallville he needed to do. “No,” he said, looking back at Dean. “That’s where Jess was from.”

Dean sighed. “Does her family still live there?”

Sam realized he didn’t know, and for the first time, it registered as odd that she’d never talked about her family. He’d never talked about his, of course, so it had never struck him as strange that he knew nothing about hers. “I don’t know.”

“Then why do you care?”

“I just do, okay? I have a feeling, this is important.” 

Dean said nothing, but he looked so uncomfortable that it would have been funny if it weren’t frustrating. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “If you don’t want to go, at least explain why. Otherwise, we’re going.”

“Uh, I’m driving, so no we’re not,” said Dean.

“Okay, how about this? You drop me off in Smallville, I’ll see what this is all about, you pick me back up afterward.” 

“What? No,” said Dean firmly. “I’m not leaving you there by yourself.” 

Sam groaned, annoyed. “Why are you being so weird about this?”

“I’m not being weird, you’re being weird!” 

“You are so being weird! I gave you two simple options, either take us to Smallville, or explain why you don’t want to. Or better yet, explain it to the mothers of these missing boys.” Sam held up the paper, knowing this was a cheap shot but too annoyed to care. “I bet they’re distraught.”

Dean exhaled heavily, leaning back in the driver’s seat. “Ugh, you are so annoying. Fine.” 

A couple of hours later, they passed a  _ Welcome to Smallville _ sign emblazoned with the slogan  _ Meteor Capital of the World. _ Sam frowned. “Huh.”

“Weird,” said Dean stiffly, even jumpier than he had been when Sam first brought up the town. 

“I’m thinking we can stop at the highschool, maybe pose as football recruiters? One of the boys was on the team.”

“No,” said Dean, too quickly. “I mean, you can do that. I’ll head to the library, see what I can dig up.”

Sam stared at his brother like he’d grown a second head. “Okay, pull over.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but obliged. He turned to look at Sam as the car rolled to a stop, raising an eyebrow. “What.”

“What do you mean, ‘what?’ What the hell is wrong with you?” Sam demanded. “You’ve been acting weird for the last three hours, since I brought up Smallville, but the dead giveaway was suggesting that  _ I  _ go pretend to be a football star at the high school and  _ you _ go pore over old newspapers at the library. If there’s something here you’re avoiding, I need to know what it is.”

Dean groaned, leaning forward against the steering wheel before looking back at Sam. “Fine. I’ve been here before, and I didn’t exactly leave a good impression, okay? Happy?”

Sam stared at him. “What? That’s never stopped you before. Is there a warrant out for your arrest or something?”

Dean sighed heavily. “Look, it’s not just that the locals don’t take too kindly to me. This town is insane, okay? And that’s coming from me. We’re used to dealing with weird shit, but I got in over my head here. I came here to deal with this evil witch--she turned out to be the least of my problems.”

“An evil witch? Why is this the first I’m hearing about this?”

“It’s a long story,” said Dean, in a tone that suggested he wasn’t the least bit interested in telling it. “I said we could come here, let’s just get to the bottom of this and get out, alright?”

Something in Dean’s voice told Sam that whatever this was, it was about more than an evil witch and a possible arrest warrant. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” he prompted. He knew Dean wouldn’t, same as the last dozen times he’d asked, but hey. At least he made the effort. Maybe one of these days, he’d shake something loose.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Dean, predictably. He continued into town, stopping outside what looked like a charmingly retro movie theater. 

Sam raised an eyebrow. “A movie theater?”

“A coffee shop called the Talon. It used to be a movie theater.” Dean was somehow still getting jumpier as they got out of the car, looking around. “It’s kind of the go-to place for local gossip. You scope it out, I’ll go to the library, meet back up in an hour.”

Just then, a bald man in an expensive-looking coat walked out of the coffee shop, and three things happened in quick succession. His eyes fell on Dean, his to-go cup dropped to the ground, and he strode forward, grabbing Dean by the front of the jacket and shoving him back against the side of the Impala.

“What the hell are you doing here? Or, for starters, what the hell are you doing alive?” he demanded, voice full of venom.

“Whoa, whoa, hey,” Sam said instinctively, putting himself between them and pushing the stranger back. “What are you talking about?”

“Dead or not, Jason,” the man spat, ignoring Sam, “You’ve got some fucking nerve showing your face here. I don’t know whether to call the police or shoot you myself.”

Dean’s eyes were wide, an expression Sam knew well enough to know something stupid would come out of his mouth if he didn’t intervene.

Thankfully, the truth seemed like it would work better than a lie here. “Look,” said Sam, “I don’t know who Jason is, but this is my brother Dean.”

Dean seemed to have caught up by the time Sam finished speaking, long enough to fish his wallet out of his pocket and flash his driver’s license. “Sorry, man,” he said, putting on a deeper voice than usual, “You’ve got the wrong guy.”

The stranger glared, but backed off enough to satisfy Sam that there wouldn’t be a fight in the middle of the sidewalk. “Word of advice, ‘Dean,’” he said, leaning on the name in a manner that suggested he was less than convinced, “Keep that ID handy while you’re in Smallville.” He glanced sideways at Sam before leaving, getting into a sleek sports car parked a few spots away. The license plate, Sam noted, read  _ LEX III. _

Sam grabbed Dean’s sleeve, dragging him to the side of the building where they were less likely to be overheard. “What the hell was that, Dean?”

Dean sighed. “I told you, last time I was here I didn’t leave the best impression.”

“He called you ‘Jason.’ He said you were supposed to be dead,” said Sam, staring at him incredulously. “Whole story, now.”

“...Fine,” said Dean. He exhaled heavily, shaking his head. “So there was this witch who died in the 1600s, Margaret Isobel Thoreaux. I heard a rumor that she was supposed to come back in the body of one of her descendants, girl called Lana Lang.” Dean was avoiding Sam’s eyes, clearly uncomfortable. “Dad was off on another hunt, and this lady Genevieve Teague saw that I was looking into it and reached out to me. She knew her stuff, said she wanted to team up, and I said sure. I figured she just meant she’d do the recon and I’d do the legwork, but it was way more complicated than that. Next thing I know, I’m flying to Paris with her dead son Jason’s passport.”

Sam rubbed his brow. “Please tell me identity theft is the worst this story gets.” He knew it wouldn’t be, but hey, one could hope.

“Wish I could, Sammy.”

“Great.”

“Man, I am not gonna come off great in this story.” Dean sighed. “Isobel was buried in Paris, and Lana--Isobel’s vessel--was spending her summer abroad there. I was just supposed to do research, find out if the prophecy was true, see what we could do about getting rid of this bitch for good.”

“But?”

“But Lana and I ran into each other before we were supposed to, and things got...complicated.” He saw Sam open his mouth to speak, and quickly continued. “I didn’t sleep with her, we just...dated. Exclusively. For half a year.”

“You were right, you’re not coming off great in this story,” Sam admonished him. “Half a year? Under a fake name? You get that that’s worse than sleeping with her, right?”

“She was young, I thought I was protecting her!”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious! Look, yeah, it was complicated. At first I was just trying to get her to trust me, so I could get to the bottom of the whole evil witch possession thing. Then Genevieve offered me a lot of money to keep it up, I mean a  _ lot _ of money. So I stayed in Paris, I researched, I didn’t tell her who I was or what I was up to.” Dean shuffled uncomfortably on his feet. At least he had the decency to look a little ashamed. “And I, uh...moved back to Smallville with her.”

Sam smacked him on the head.

“Ow! Hey!” Dean threw his arms up defensively. “Chill, okay, I know it was bad! I got a job at her school--”

“You got a job at her  _ school?  _ While you were  _ dating her? _ Dean! What the fuck?”

“I never said this was my proudest moment, okay? Look, I realized I was in too deep when I saw how serious she was about me, so I told Genevieve to keep her money and broke it off.” Something about the way Dean paused told Sam that wasn’t the end of the story, so he stayed quiet, eyes fixed on his brother. Dean took a deep breath and kept going. “That should have been the end of it. But the Luthors got involved. And...woof. You think our family has issues, holy shit.”

“Is that the guy we just ran into out front?” Sam asked to clarify. The name ‘Luthor’ rang vaguely familiar; he thought he might have heard it on the news once. “Who is he?”

“Billionaire tech tycoon Lex Luthor. Guy’s a real dick, the kind of asshole who’ll do anything to grab a little bit of power. Naturally, he wanted in on the ancient magical prophecy thing, even though he didn’t know a damn thing about what he was getting into.” Dean rolled his eyes with contempt at just the thought. “A few magic crystals and a trip to China later, the whole thing just went to shit. I’ve never seen such a mess, and I mean that. I tried my damnedest, almost died three times. The third time, I said fuck it and cut my losses, skipped town, and met back up with Dad.”

Sam was silent for what must have been a full minute, trying to process everything Dean had said, plus the implications of the parts he glazed over. “Well. That’s in the top five craziest things you’ve ever told me.”

“No shit. And I didn’t even get to the weirdest part,” said Dean, expression deadly serious.

Sam braced himself. “What’s the weirdest part?”

Dean leaned in closer. “Weird, cryptic, supernatural shit? Our kind of shit? Happens here every other goddamn week. Lana said it was the meteor shower, made the whole town--” he made a vague hand gesture that might have indicated mystery “--crazy.”

Sam blinked. “If that’s true, how is this place still standing? Most towns can barely handle one supernatural threat.”

“There’s a family here in town, the Kents, they own a farm out by the river,” said Dean. “Their son, Clark, is always around, any time shit hits the fan. And it always gets worked out somehow.” A flicker of something crossed Dean’s face long enough for Sam to notice, even caught up in the insane story as he was. He noted the odd expression for later. 

“You think they might be hunters?” Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. “You got a better explanation?”

“And what about the whole witch thing?” 

“Like I said. Worked itself out. I put myself through all that for nothing.” Dean shook his head.

Sam paused, thinking and processing. “What about the girl? Lana?”

“What about her?”

Sam gave him a look. “Where is she?”

“She lives in the apartment over the Talon, last I knew.” When Sam said nothing, Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

Sam sighed. “I’ll tell you why. We’re going in there, and you’re going to apologize to that poor girl.”

Dean scoffed. “Um, I absolutely am not.”

Sam grabbed Dean by the shoulders, trying to wrestle him toward the door. 

After a brief scuffle, Dean conceded, shrugging off Sam’s grip and glaring at him. “Fine. But when this backfires, just remember it was your idea.” He adjusted his jacket and followed Sam into the crowded coffee shop.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Dean back in Smallville, awkward conversations ensue.

Dean braced himself as he stood outside Lana’s door. He could do this. As much as he hated to admit it, Sam was right: he owed Lana an apology. She was a sweet girl, and she didn’t deserve everything Dean had put her through. Although, he thought with a touch of annoyance, he’d hardly been the worst offender. Normally, he’d say the lie was kinder--it would be easier for everyone to just let her think “Jason” was dead and move on with her life. But if there was one thing he remembered about Lana, it was that she valued honesty more than almost anything else, constantly talking about how secrets were the root of all evil. As uncomfortable as it was, she would want to know the truth, and he owed it to her.

He knocked on the door.

Lana opened it a few seconds later, eyes going wide at the sight of Dean. He had just enough time to remember that she had mixed martial arts training before her right hook connected with his jaw. 

He staggered back, letting out a pained hiss as he rubbed his jaw. “Okay, I deserved that.”

Sam snorted. “Yeah, you did.”

“Jason?!” Lana’s eyes were wild with confusion and anger. 

“Uh...” Dean rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“Start talking!” She demanded.

Dean sighed, glancing down at the crowded Talon. Not the best place to be talking about conspiracies and witches. “Can I come in?”

Lana crossed her arms, casting a sideways look at Sam. “Who’s this?”

“This is my brother, Sam.” This next part was gonna be rough. “...And my real name’s not Jason. It’s Dean Winchester.”

The expression that came across Lana’s face was one Dean recognized from the mirror: a mix of disbelief and tired resignation. She stepped aside to let them in, and Dean stepped into the apartment awkwardly. “Explain yourself. Now.” Her posture was defensive, and Dean couldn’t say he blamed her. 

He nodded. “Yep, that’s why I’m here.” He glanced at Sam, who gestured as if to say “go on.” Dean took a deep breath. “So...let’s rip the Band-Aid. I hunt things. Ghosts, monsters, all manner of things what go bump in the night. Normally that takes a little more convincing to get people to believe, but, well, this is Smallville.”

“I’m guessing the spirit of a dead 17th-century witch falls into that category?”

“Yep,” said Dean. “Genevieve Teague hired me to go to Paris and dig up info on Isobel. The real Jason died eight years ago--she had me use his name to track you down.” Guilt stirred in the pit of his stomach. Distantly, he wished he’d never heard of Margaret Isobel Thoreaux. 

“That bitch,” Lana muttered.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “She was.” He sighed. “After that, it all got out of hand, even more when the Luthors got involved. I never meant to hurt you, Lana.”

“Funny how everyone always says that,” she said, voice slightly strained. She shook her head. “When I met you...god, you have no idea how happy I was to finally meet someone I thought I could trust.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and Sam nudged Dean from behind. 

“I’m sorry,” said Dean, knowing it was a pretty pathetic attempt at fixing this mess. “That’s why I came here. To apologize.”

Lana paused, studying him. “Was it ever real?” she asked.

Dean froze, caught off guard by the question and realizing he wasn’t sure about the answer himself. Lana was objectively gorgeous, there was no denying it. She was tough, smart, kind...but over the course of their fake relationship, he’d never wished it was genuine. When he broke it off after realizing she was falling in love with him, he’d felt relieved. More than anything, he’d seen her as someone he’d needed to protect. And of course, he’d put her in harm’s way. Real good job he’d done there. “No,” he admitted. “You’re a great girl, Lana, and I like you, but...no. It wasn’t.”

Lana nodded, eyes misty. When she spoke, her voice was measured, careful. “...This is a lot to take in. And don’t get me wrong, I still never want to see you again. But...thank you, for telling me the truth.”

Dean shrugged, feeling like shit. “Figured it’s the least I could do, after everything.” He turned and left, heading downstairs to the Talon and trying to remember where the nearest bar was.

Sam lingered awkwardly in Lana’s apartment. “I know this isn’t the best time,” he said gently, “But is there any chance I could ask you a couple of questions? Before I found out about the whole secret identity thing, we came here to investigate some disappearances at the high school, and, well...you already know what we do.”

She thought about it for a second, then nodded, wiping her eyes. “Uh, sure. Can you do something for me first, though?”

“Sure,” Sam agreed, “What is it?”

“Go downstairs and get me a large cappuccino with vanilla syrup.”

Sam smiled slightly. “Want me to punch Dean again for you while I’m down there? I’m pretty much always looking for the excuse.”

She chuckled. “Well, I won’t tell you  _ no. _ ”

Sam made his way downstairs to the counter, ordering Lana’s cappuccino and a latte for himself. He spotted Dean waiting for him near the stairs. “See? Was that so hard?”

“Yes,” said Dean with a groan. “This is why it’s better to just not get attached.”

Sam rolled his eyes, thinking for what must have been the millionth time that his brother seriously needed therapy. “I’m sticking around to ask her about the case. Try not to get attacked by any more vengeful locals.”

“No promises,” said Dean. “It’s only a matter of time before...” he trailed off mid-sentence, and Sam followed his gaze to see that a tall, brown haired young man had just walked in. Despite towering over everyone around him, his face was boyish and bright, and he was dressed like he’d just come from working on a farm--which, considering the amount of corn fields they’d passed on the way here, he probably had.

“Do you know that guy?” Sam prompted, and Dean blinked back to attention. 

“Uh, yeah. That’s Clark Kent, the guy I told you about.”

“The one you think might be a hunter?” Sam glanced back at the counter as the barista called out his order. “Maybe you should talk to him while I go talk to Lana.”

Dean swallowed, obviously nervous. “He’s not gonna be happy to see me.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Sam retrieved the coffees and ascended the stairs again. Both hands full, he tapped gently on the door with his foot.

Lana looked a bit more put-together when she answered the door, though Sam could still tell she’d been crying. “Thanks,” she said, taking her coffee. “Come on in.”

“Thank you,” said Sam. “I appreciate your being willing to talk to me after everything with Dean.”

Lana shrugged, taking a seat on the couch and indicating the armchair next to it, where Sam sat down. “It’s not your fault. I know what it’s like to find out something awful about someone you thought you knew; it kind of happens to me a lot.” She had an air about her that Sam recognized, the bearing of someone who’d been through so much that they’d come to expect the worst at every turn.

“Still. I’m sorry,” said Sam. “Dean mentioned that weird stuff happens in this town pretty often, something about a meteor shower?”

“Weird is one word for it, for sure. There was a huge meteor shower here in 1989, and ever since then, the ground here has been full of meteor fragments. You’ll know them if you see them--they’re usually bright green, though I’ve seen a couple of different colors. The meteor rocks...” She paused thoughtfully, sipping her coffee. “They change things. I don’t know how else to explain what they do. I’ve seen them do everything from making a person lose weight to sending a phone call back in time. There was another one last year; the town is still rebuilding from it. Jason--I mean, Dean--was supposed to have died in that meteor shower.”

Sam blinked. “I’ve seen some pretty weird stuff,” he said, “But that’s a new one.”

“Welcome to Smallville.”

“Do you remember the first meteor shower?” he asked conversationally, immediately regretting it when Lana stiffened, her hands tightening around the cup, body language he’d seen too often while questioning victims. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s okay,” she said softly. “It’s been a long time. Both my parents were killed in the meteor shower. It happened right in front of me--I still remember it, clear as day.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Sam. “I know a little of what that’s like; my mother was killed when I was a kid.”

“Then I’m sorry, too,” said Lana with a sad smile. A beat of silence passed, and she sighed. “The disappearances you’re looking into probably have something to do with the meteor rocks. Honestly, if investigating strange occurrences is your job, I’m surprised you haven’t been to Smallville before.”

“Me too,” Sam agreed, although if Dean was right and there was a family of hunters living in Smallville, that could explain it. He took out the newspaper article he’d seen in the car and handed it to Lana. “These boys from Smallville High have gone missing in the last week. Reports said they were acting strange before they disappeared. Do you know any of them?”

“James Osbert, Alec Stevens, and Kenneth Colton,” Lana read aloud. “Alec works at the print shop down the street, but I don’t know him personally. I just see him when I go get flyers and such.” She handed the newspaper back to Sam. 

“That’s a place to start, at least,” said Sam. “Normally I’d ask you if you’ve seen anything strange around town this last week, but I have a feeling that wouldn’t narrow it down.”

Lana nodded. “You’d be right. For some reason, when crazy things happen here, I always end up stuck in the middle of it.”

“Thanks for your time, Lana. And again, I’m sorry for my brother.”

“And again, it’s not your fault. But thank you anyway,” she said as she showed him to the door. 

Another thought occurred to Sam, and he turned around in the doorway. “One more thing. Did you happen to know a Jessica Moore who grew up here?”

Lana hummed thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. Why?”

Sam’s heart sank, though he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like finding people who remembered Jess would make her any less dead. “It doesn’t really matter,” he said. He searched his pockets for a pen and scrawled his cell number on a corner of the newspaper. “Here. If you see anything while we’re in town, could you give me a call?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not.” She tucked the scrap of paper into her pocket. “I’m sure I’ll see you around; it is called Smallville, after all.”

Sam chuckled. “See you around.”

Downstairs in the cafe, Dean wished he could disappear. Facing Lana had been rough, but for some reason, the idea of coming clean to Clark was even worse. Maybe it was because he always seemed so goddamn wholesome and got that kicked-puppy look on his face whenever someone was mean to him. 

Clark met his eyes, and Dean realized too late that he’d been staring while lost in thought. 

“Jason?” 

Shit. “Uh...not exactly.”

“What do you mean, ‘not exactly?’” Clark demanded, stepping closer. Oof, the look in those blue eyes stung.

Dean sighed. This was just not his day. “Look, this isn’t the best place to explain this, can we talk outside?”

Clark hesitated, but nodded, and followed Dean to the alley next to the Talon. “You’d better have a good explanation for this,” he said once they were out of sight of the sidewalk. He looked angry, but not the least bit afraid, and Dean put another mental point in the “the Kents are hunters” column, though he still wasn’t sure. Clark had always been something of a mystery.

“Well, I don’t know if it’s a  _ good _ explanation,” said Dean, “But my name is Dean Winchester. The real Jason died years ago.”

Clark’s brow furrowed in a mix of confusion and righteous anger. “Does Lana know about this?”

“I just told her, and I’ll have the bruise to show for it in an hour or two,” said Dean, tilting his head back to show the already darkening spot on his jaw. “Girl knows how to throw a punch.”

“You’re lucky she stopped at a punch, after everything you put her through,” said Clark in an accusatory tone that Dean had to admit he deserved.

“I know, I know. And, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry to you, too. I don’t know how you got sucked into the whole thing with Isobel--” though he had his theories “--but you didn’t deserve that either. Also the, uh, beating you up while I was dosed with a meteor rock love potion. That was rough.” 

“If Jason was a fake name all along,” said Clark, “You could have walked away scot-free with everyone thinking you were dead. What are you doing back here?”

I wouldn’t be if I had a choice, Dean thought, but he held his tongue. “You heard about those missing boys from the high school?” 

“Yeah,” said Clark. “I heard about it on the local news.”

“I got roped into investigating the case. Weird shit like this is kind of my area.” Dean kept his eyes on Clark’s face, studying his reaction, but he didn’t seem to pick up on the hint. 

“Investigating? Weird things happen in Smallville all the time, what makes this any different?” asked Clark. He looked suspicious, and Dean couldn’t blame him. Agreeing to come here had been such a bad idea. 

“It wasn’t exactly my idea.”

Right on cue, Sam walked out of the Talon, looking around for Dean. He stopped when he saw him talking to Clark, making a gesture from over his shoulder that vaguely indicated waiting in the car. 

“Look,” said Dean, “I promise I’m not here to make trouble. The faster we can find out what’s going on with the missing students, the faster I’ll be out of your hair for good. So...truce?” He offered his hand.

Clark hesitated, his expression guarded. “...Sure,” he said after a pause, shaking Dean’s hand.

“Good. I’ve got to go; maybe I’ll see you around.” Why did he say that? He didn’t want to see Clark around, that would be so awkward.

“Maybe,” said Clark, in a tone that sounded as awkward as Dean felt. Fuck.

Dean left quickly, meeting Sam at the car and sliding into the driver’s seat. “What are you looking at?” he asked, realizing Sam was giving him that weird look he got when the nerdy little gears in his head were turning.

“Nothing,” said Sam. “I talked to Lana, she doesn’t know anything. What about you?”

“Same. Nothing,” said Dean, though he hadn’t actually asked.

Sam nodded. “So, how well do you know that Clark guy?”

“I was his coach when I worked at the school. We were friends, I guess. Why?”

“No reason,” said Sam. “Just wondering.”

The sun was setting now, bright orange over the corn-field-filled horizon. “Let’s get a hotel and order pizza,” said Dean. “I’ve had enough awkward reunions for one day.”


End file.
